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A  NIGHT  IN 
AVIGNON 

E  rOVNG   RICE 


r 


A  NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON 


A  Night  in  Avignon 


BY 

CALE   YOUNG  RICE 

Author  of  "Charles  Di  Tocca,"   "David, 
"Plays  and  Lyrics,"  etc. 


NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,   PAGE  &  COMPANY 

MCMXIII 


Copyright,  iqoj,  by 
CALE    YOUNG    RICE 

Published,  March,   1907 


TO 
DONALD    ROBERTSON 


324919 


A  NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON 


Francesco  Petrarca 

Gherardo 

Lello 

Orso    .     . 

Filippa 

Sancia 

Madonna  Laura 


CHARACTERS 

A  Young  Poet  and  Scholar 
His  Brother,  a  Monk 
His  Friend 
His  Servant 


'  I  Ladies  of  light  life  in  Avig' 
(     non 


A   NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON 

Scene  :  A  room  in  the  chambers  of  Petrarca  at 
Avignon.  It  opens  on  a  loggia  overlook- 
ing, on  higher  ground,  the  spired  church 
o]  Santa  Clara  and  the  gray  cloisters  of 
a  Carthusian  monastery.  Beyond  lie  the 
city  walls  under  glamour  of  the  blue  Pro- 
vencal night. 

The  room,  faintly  frescoed,  is  lighted 
with  many  candles;  some  glittering  on  a 
wine-table  heavy  with  wines  toward  the 
right  front.    A  door  on  the  left  leads  to 

other  rooms,  and  an  arrased  one  opposite, 
3 


4  A    NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON 

down  to  the  street.  Bookshelves  and  a 
writing-desk  strewn  with  a  lute  and  writ- 
ings are  also  on  the  lejt;  a  crimson  couch  is 
in  the  centre;  and  garlands  oj  myrtle  and 
laurel  deck  the  wine-table. 

Gherardo,  the  monkf  is  seated  by  the 
desk,  following  with  severe  looks  the  steps 
oj  Petrarca,  who  is  walking  feverishly  to 
and  fro. 

Gherardo    (after  a   pause).    Listen.    Another 
word,  Francesco. 

Petrarca.  Aih ! 

And  then  another — that  will  breed  another. 

Gherardo.     Dote  on  this  Laura  still — if  still 
you  must: 
Woman's  your  destiny. 


A    NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON  5 

But  quench  these  lights  and  set  away  that 
wine. 
Petrarca.    And   to   no   other  lips   turn?   hers 
denied  me? 
Never,  Gherardo! 
Gherardo.  Virtue  bids  you. 

Petrarca.  Vainly! 

I've  borne  until  I  will  not  .  .  .  For  it  is 
Two  years  now  since  in  the  aisles 
Of  Santa  Clara  yonder  my  heart  first 
Went  from  me  on  mad  wings. 
Two  years  this  April  morning 
Since  it  fell  fluttering  before  her  feet  .  .  . 
As  she  stood  there  beside  our  blessed  Lady, 
Gowned  as  young  Spring  in  green  and 
violets!  .  .  . 


6  A    NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON 

Gherardo.    And   these   two  years   have  been 
inviolate; 

Your  life  as  pure  as  hers, 

As  virgin — 

Save  for  the  songs  you've  sung  to  her; 
those  songs 

This  idle  city  echoes  with.     But  now 

Petrarca.    Now  I  will  open  all  the  gates  to 
Pleasure ! 

To  rosy  Pleasure — warm,  unspiritual, 

Ready  to  spring 

Into  the  arms  of  all 

Whom  bloodless  Virtue  pales. 

For,  of  restraint  and  hoping,  I  have  drunk 

But  a  vintage  of  tears! 

And  what  has  been  my  gain? 


A  NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON  7 

Gherardo.  Her  chastity. 

Pelrarca.    A  chastity  unchallenged  of  desire — 

And  therefore  none! 

Aih,  none! 

For,  were  it  other; 

Could  I  aver  that  once,  that  ever  once 

Her  lids  had  fallen  low  in  fear  of  love, 

I'd  bid  the  desert  of  my  heart  burn  dry — 

To  the  last  oasis — 

With  resignation! 

But  never  have  they,  never!  and  I'm  mad. 
(Pours  out  wine.) 
Gherardo.    And  you  will  seek  to  cure  it  with 
more  madness? 

To  cast  the  devil  of  love  out  of  your  veins 

With  other  love  and  lower! 


8  A   NIGHT  W  AVIGNON 

Petrarca.  Yes,  yes,  yes!  {drinks.) 

With  little  Sancia's! 

Whose  soul  is  a  sweet  sin! 

Who  lives  but  for  this  life  and  asks  of 
Death 

Only  a  breath  of  time  before  he  ends  it, 

To  tell  three  beads  and  fill  her  mouth  with 
aves. 

Just  for  enough,  she  says, 

"To  tell  God  that  He  made  me"- as  He 
did. 
Gherardo.    And  to   blaspheme   with!    O  ob- 
sessed man. 

(Has  risen,  flushed.) 

But  you  will  fail!    For  this  vain  revelry 

Will  ease  not.    And  I  see  all  love  is  base — 


A   NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON  9 

As  say  the  Fathers — 
All!  .  .  .  and  the  body  of  woman 
Is  vile  from  the  beginning. 
Petrarca.  Monkish  lies! 

(Drinks  again  jor  courage.) 
The  body  of  woman's  born  of  bliss  and 

beauty. 
Only  one  thing  is  fairer — that's  her  soul. 
Gherardo.    And  is  that  Word  which  says  thou 
shalt  not  look 
Upon  another's  wife  a  monkish  lie? 

(Silence.) 
Your  Laura  is  another's. 
Petrarca  (torn).  As  I  found! 

After  my  heart  became  a  poison  flame — 
Within  me! 


A   NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON 

A  fierce  inquisitor  against  my  peace! 

After  I  followed  her  from  Santa  Clara, 

That  mass-hour, 

To  an  escutcheoned  door! 

After  and  not  before  .  .  .  And  such  an- 
other's ! 

Ugo  di  Sade's! 

A  beast  whose  sullen  mind  two  thoughts 
would  drain; 

Whose  breath  is  a  poltroon's; 

Who  is  unkind.  .  .  .  I've  seen  her  weep; 
who  loves 

Her  not.  .  .  .  And  yet  the  fane  of  song  I 
frame  her, 

The  love  I  burn  on  it,  she  laughs  away. 

To  hide  her  own?  .  .  .  I  will  not  so  believe. 


A   NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON  n 

Gherardo.    Nor  should  you. 

Petrarca.  Yet  you  bid  me  quarry  still 

The  deeps  of  me  to  shrine  her? 

And  be  Avignon's  laughter? 

A  mock,  a  titter  on  the  tongue  of  geese 

That  gad  the  city  gates? 

A  type  of  fools  that  sigh  while  others  kiss? 

"Francesco  Petrarca! 

Who  never  clasped  his  mistress — but  in  a 
sonnet ! 

Who  fills  empty  canzone  with  his  passion — 

But  never  her  ears ! 

Never! — though  she  was  wed  against  her 
will 

To  an  unlettered  boor  out  bartering — 

One  whom  she  well  could  leave!"  .  .  . 


12  A   NIGHT  IN   AVIGNON 

I'll  not, Gherardo !  .  .  .  Sonnets? 

(Tears  several  from  desk.) 
Vain,  all!  .  .  . 

(Casts  them  away.) 
But  Lello  comes!  and  brings  me  Sancia! 
Filippa!  merry  Filippa  and  Sancia! 
We'll  drink! — wine  of  Rocella! 
Wine  of  the  Rhine !  Bielna!  San  Porciano! — 
And  kiss! 

(Throws  back  his  head.) 
Kiss  with  the  lips  of  life  and  not  of  .  .  . 
(A  knell  has  begun  to  beat  jrom  the  church 
without.    He    hears    it,    and,    awed, 
sinks,  crossing  himself,  to  the  couch.) 
(Gherardo,  exalted,  shudders.) 
Gherardo.     It  is  the  knell  of  Matteo  Banista, 


A    NIGHT  IN   AVIGNON  13 

Whose  soul  is  gone  for  its  licentious  days 
Upon  steep  purgatory. 

(Prepares  to  go.) 

Your  sin  be  on  you  .  .  .  and  it  will. 

Petrarca  (jearjul).  No!  ...  no! 

(Starts  up.) 

But  hear,  Gherardo,  hear! 

(His  words  come  stifled.) 
There  in  the  cloister  have  you  peace — in 

prayer? 
In  visions — penances?  .  .  . 
Swear  that  you  have!  swear  to  me!  once! 

.  .  .  but  once! 
And  I  ...!..  . 
No,  never!  .  .  .  never! 

(He  wipes  his  brow.) 


A   NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON 
While  we  are  in  the  world  the  world's  in  us. 
The  Holy  Church  I  own — 
Confess  her  Heaven's  queen; 
But  we  are  flesh  and  all  things  that  are  fair 
God  made  us  to  enjoy — 
Or,    high   in   Paradise,   we'll   know   but 

sorrow. 
You  though  would  ban  earth's  beauty, 
Even  the  torch  of  Glory 
That  kindled   Italy  once  and  led  great 

Greece — 
The  torch  of  Plato,  Homer,  Virgil,  all 
The  sacred  bards  and  sages,  pagan-born! 
I  love  them!  they  are  divine! 
And  so  to-night  ...!... 
(Voices.) 


A   NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON 
Thev!  it  is  Lello!  Lello!  Sancia  !- 


(Hears  a  lute  and  laughter  below,  then  a 
call,   "Sing,    Sancia";    then   Sancia 
singing:) 
To  the  maids  of  Saint  Remy 

All  the  gallants  go  for  pleasure; 
To  the  maids  of  Saint  Remy — 

Tripping  to  love's  measure! 
To  the  dames  of  Avignon 

All  the  masters  go  for  wiving; 
To  the  dames  of  Avignon — 

That  shall  be  their  shriving! 
(He  goes  to  the  Loggia  as  they  gayly  ap- 
plaud.   Then  Lello  cries:) 
Lello.    Ho-ho!     Petrarca!     Pagan!    are   you 
in? 


16  A   NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON 

What!  are  you  sonnet-monger? 
Petrarca.  Ai,  ai,  aih! 

(Motions  Gherardo — who  goes.) 
Lello.     Come    then!    Your    door    is    locked! 
down!  let  us  in! 

{Rattles  it.) 
Petrarca.    No,  ribald!  hold!  the  key  is  on  the 
sill! 
Look  for  it  and  ascend ! 

(Orso  enters.) 
Stay,  here  is  Orso! 

(The  old  servant  goes  through  and  down 

the  stairs  to  meet  them.    In  a  moment 

the  tramp  oj  jeet  is  heard  and  they 

enter — Lello  between  them — singing:) 

Guelph!  Guelph!  and  Ghibbeline! 


A   NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON  17 

Ehyo!  ninni!  onni!  onz! 
I  went  fishing  on  All  Saints'  Day 
And — caught  but  human  bones! 

I  went  fishing  on  All  Saints'  Day. 
The  Rhone  ran  swift,  the  wind  blew  black! 
I  went  fishing  on  All  Saints'  Day — 
But  my  love  called  me  back! 

She  called  me  back  and  she  kissed  my 

lips — 
Oh,  my  lips!   Oh,  onni!  onz! 
"Better  take  life  than  death,"  said  she, 
Better  take  love  than— bones!  bones! 

(Sancia  kisses  Petrarca.) 
Better  take  love  than  bones." 


18  A   NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON 

(They  scatter  with  glee  and  Petrarca   seizes 

Sancia  to  him.) 
Petrarca.    Yes,    little   Sancia!   and   you,    my 
friends ! 
Warm  love  is  better,  better! 
And  braver!    Come,  Lello!  give  me  your 

hand! 

And  you,  Filippa !    No,  I'll  have  your  lips ! 

Sancia    (interposing).     Or — less?    One    at    a 

time,  Messer  Petrarca! 

You  learn  too  fast.    Mine  only  for  to-night. 

Petrarca.    And  for  a  thousand  nights,  Sancia 

fair! 
Sancia.    You    hear    him?    Santa    Madonna! 
pour  us  wine, 
To  pledge  him  in! 


A  NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON  19 

Petrarca.  The  tankards  bubble  o'er! 

(They  go  to  the  table.) 
And  see,  they  are  wreathed  of  April, 
With  loving  myrtle  and  laurel  intertwined. 
We'll  hold  symposium,  as  bacchanals! 
Sancia.    And  that  is — what?  some  dull  and 
silly  show 
Out  of  your  sallow  books? 
Petrarca.  Those  books  were  writ 

With  ink  of  the  gods,  my  Sancia,  upon 
Papyri  of  the  stars ! 
Sancia.  And — long  ago? 

Ha!  long  ago? 
Petrarca.  Returnless  centuries! 

Sancia  (contemptuously).    Who  loves  the  past, 
loves  mummies  and  their  dust — 


20  A   NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON 

And  he  will  mould! 

Who  loves  the  future  loves  what  may  not  be, 
And  feeds  on  fear. 
Only  one  flower  has  Time — its  name  is 

Now! 
Come,  pluck  it!  pluck  it! 
Lello.  Brava,  maid!  the  Now! 

Sancia  {dancing).    Come,  pluck  it!  pluck  it! 
Petrarca.  By  my  soul,  I  will! 

(Seizes  her  again.) 
It  grows  upon  these  lips — and  if  to-night 
They  leant  out  over  the  brink  of  Hell,  I 
would. 

(She  breaks  from  him.) 
Filippa.    Enough!  the  wine!  the  wine! 
Sancia.  O  ever-thirsty 


A   NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON  21 

And  ever- thrifty  Pippa!    Well,  pour  out! 

(She  lifts  a  brimming  cup.) 
We'll  drink  to  Messer  Petrarca — 
Who's  weary  of  his  bed-mate,  Solitude. 
May  he  long  revel  in  the  courts  of  Venus ! 

All  (drinking).   Aih,  long! 

Petrarca.       As  long  as  Sancia  enchants  them! 

Filippa.    I'd  trust  him  not,  Sancia.     Put  him 
to  oath. 

Sancia.    And,  to  the  rack,  if  faithless?    This 
Filippa! 
Messer  Petrarca,  should  she  not  be  made 
High  Jurisconsult  to  our  lord,  the  Devil, 
Whose  breath  of  life  is  oaths?  .  .  . 
But,  swear  it!  ...  by  the  Saints! 
Who  were  great  sinners  all! 


22  A   NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON 

And  by  the  bones  of  every  monk  or  nun 
Who  ever  darkened  the  world ! 
Lello.  Or  ever  shall! 

{A  pause.) 
Petrarca.    I'll  swear  your  eyes  are  singing 
Under  the  shadow  of  your  hair,  mad  Sancia, 
Like  nightingales  in  the  wood. 
Sancia.  Pah!  Messer  Poet  .  .  . 

Such  words  as  those  you  vent  without  an 

end — 
To  the  Lady  Laura! 
Petrarca.    Stop! 

{Grows  pale.) 
Not  her  name — here! 

{All  have  sat  dawn;  he  rises.) 
Sancia.    O-ho !  this  air  will  soil  it  ?  and  it  might 


A   NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON  23 

Not  sound  so  sweet  in  sonnets  ever  after? 

(To  the  rest — rising:) 
Shall  we  depart,  that  he  may  still  indite 

them? 
*To    Laura — On    the    Vanity    of    Pas- 
sion"? 
"To  Laura— Unrelenting"? 
"To  Laura — Whose  Departing  Darkens 
the  Sky"? 

(Laughs.) 
"To  Laura — Who  Deigns  Not  a  Single 
Tear"? 

(Orso  enters.) 
Shall  we  depart? 
Lello.  Peace!  Sancia. 

Sancia.  Ah-ha! 


24  A   NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON 

(Moves  away.) 
Petrarca  (still  tensely — to  Orso).     Speak. 
Orso.  Sir,  you  are  desired. 

Petrarca.  By  whom? 

Orso.  Her  veil 

Was  lifted  and  she  told  me: 
Therefore  I  say  it  out — Madonna  Laura. 
(All  stare y  amazed.    Silence.) 
Petrarca  (hoarsely).    What  lie  is  this! 
Orso.  I  am  too  old  to  lie. 

Sancia  (laughing).    Who  was  the  goddess  that 
his  books  tell  of, 
The  cold  one  so  long  chaste,  but  who  at 

last 

Lello.    Be  silent,  Sancia !  Francesco  .  .  .what? 
Petrarca  (to  Orso)  .    Lead  Monna  Laura  here — 


A  NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON  25 

(Orso  goes.) 
If  it  is  she!  .  .  . 
But  you,   my  friends,   must  know  how 

strange  this  is, 
And  how — !  ...  I  have  no  words!  .  .  . 
Wait   me,   I  pray  you,  yonder,   in   that 

chamber. 
(They  go,  left,  Sancia  shrugging.     Then 
Orso  brings  Laura,  whom  Petrarca 
is  helpless  to  greet,  and  who  falters — 
yet  nobly  determining,  comes  down.) 
Laura.    Messer  Petrarca,  .  .  .  I  have  been  im- 
pelled 
To  come  .  .  .  and  as  the  purest  should, 

boldly. 
With  lifted  veil,  to  say  .  .  • 


26  A  NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON 

Petrarca.  Lady! 

Laura.  To  say— 

(Of  gratitude  I  cannot  give  another  .  .  . 
For  life  to  a  woman  is  but  resignation, 
And  that  at  last  is  shame)  .  .  . 

Petrarca.  At  last  .  .  .  shame 

Laura.    To  say — Love  is  to  us  as  light  to  the 
lilies 
That  lean  by  Mont  Ventoux. 
The  love  of  one  pure  man  for  one  pure 
woman. 
Petrarca  {dazed).    Lady!  .  .  . 
Laura.  Yes,  and — I've  been 

unkind  to  you. 
Ungentle  ever. 

{Shakes  her  head.) 


A   NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON  27 

But  there's  no  other  way  sometimes  for 
those 

Who  would  be  wholly  true. 

And  yet  ...  do  I  owe  any  truth  to  him} 
Petrarca.    To— Ugo  di  Sade? 
Laura  {bitterly).     Who  is  called  my  husband? 

How  I  was  bound  to  him,  you  know!  and 
how 

I've  dwelt  and  have  endured  more  than  his 
bursts 

Of  burning  cruelty.     For  still,  I  thought, 

He  is  my  husband! 

And  still — He  is  my  husband!  .  .  . 

But  now  no  more  I  think  it — oh!  no  more! 

Too  visible  it  is 

That  he  belongs  to  any — who  sell  love. 


28  A   NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON 

So  I  may  innocently  say  to  you 
Who  for  two  years  have  sung  my  name 

and  suffered, 
Yet  never  once  have  turned  unto  another — 

(Petrarca  pales.) 
I  well  may  say  .  .  . 

(Stopped  by  his  manner.) 
There's  something  that  you  ...    Ah ! 
(Sees,  stricken,  his  grief  and  shame.     Then 
her  glance  goes  round  the  room  and  jails 
on  the  wine-table  .  .  .  Then  Sancia  is 
heard  within:) 
Sancia.    Well,   well,   Messer  Petrarca!    How 
long  will 
You  shut  us  in  this  dark — that  is  as  black 
As  old  Pope  John  the  twenty-second's  soul? 


A  NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON  29 

A  pretty  festa,  this! 
Petrarca  {brokenly).     Merciless  God! 

(Falls  abased  before  Laura's    look,   tor- 
tured with  remorse.) 

0  lady,  what  have   I   done  beyond  re- 

pair! .  .  . 

(She  gathers  her  veil.) 
What  have  I  lost  within  this  gulf  of  shame ! 
For  a  paltry  pleasure  have  I  sold  my  dream, 
Whose  pinions  would  have  lifted  you  at 
last? 
Laura  (very  pale).    I  did  not  know,  Messer 
Petrarca,  you 
Had  friends  awaiting. 

(Pauses  numbly.) 

1  came  to-night,  as  first  I  would  have  said, 


3o  A   NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON 

*  With  holy  gratitude — 
For  a  love  I  thought  you  gave. 
With    gratitude    that    honor    well   could 

speak, 
I  thought,  and  yet  be  honor; 
With  gratitude  forgetful  of  all  else  .  .  . 
And  trusting  .  .  .  But  no  matter: 
All  trust  shall  be    embalmed    and    laid 

away. 
I  go  with  pity;  seeing 
My  husband — is  even  as  other  men. 
(She  passes  to  the  door  and  out :    Petrarca 
moans.     Then  Lello  enters  and  comes 
to  him  anxiously.) 
Lello.    Francesco ! 
Petrarca.  Lello! 


A   NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON  31 

(Dazed.) 
Lello !    Have  I  dreamed  ? 

(Rising,  with  anguish.) 
Did  Laura  come  to  me  out  of  the  night — 
Come  as  the  first  voice  breaking  beyond 

death 
To  one  despairing  t  .  .  . 
And  was  I  lifted  up  to  Heaven's  dawn? 
And  then  .  .  . 

(Reels.) 
God !   am  I  falling  .  .  .  ?  shall  I  ever  .  .  .  ? 
Down    this  ...?...  My    friend    stay 

with  me! 
No,  go  .  .  .  and  take  them  with  you — 

Sancia — all!  .  .  . 
I  have  slain  the  Spring  forever  1 


32  A   NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON 

The  green  of  the  whole  fair  world !  .  .  .  O 

Laura!  Laura! 
(Sinks  down  on  the  couch  and  buries  his  jace 

in  his  arms.    Lello  goes  sorrowfully 

out.) 

The  End. 


THE  COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS 
GARDEN  CITY,  N.  Y. 


I 


PORZIA 

By 

CALE  YOUNG  RICE 

T  PRESENTS  a  last  phase  of  the  Renais- 
sance with  great  effect."    Sir  Sidney  Lee. 

"  •  Porzia '  is  a  very  romantic  and  beauti- 
ful thing.  After  a  third  reading  I  enjoy  and 
admire  it  still  more."    Gilbert  Murray. 

"There  are  certain  lyrical  qualities  in  the 
dramas  of  Cale  Young  Rice  and  certain  dra- 
matic qualities  in  many  of  his  finest  lyrics 
that  make  it  very  difficult  for  the  critic  to 
resolve  whether  he  is  highest  as  singer  or 
dramatist.  *  Porzia'  is  a  poetic  play  in  which 
these  two  gifts  blend  with  subtle  and  powerful 
effectiveness.  It  is  not  written  in  stereotyped 
heroic  verse,  but  in  sensitive  metrical  fines 
that  vary  in  beat  and  measure  with  the 
strength,  the  tenderness,  the  anguish,  bitter- 
ness and  passion  of  love  or  hate  they  have  to 
express.  The  bizarre  and  poignant  central 
incident  on  which  the  action  of  '  Porzia '  turns 
is  such  as  would  have  appealed  irresistibly 
to  the  imagination  and  dramatic  instincts 
of  the  great  Elizabethan  dramatists,  and  Mr. 
Rice  has  developed  it  with  a  force  and  imagina- 
tive beauty  that  they  alone  could  have 
equaled  and  with  a  restraint  and  delicacy  of 
touch  which  makes  pitiful  and  beautiful  a 


story  they  would  have  clothed  in  horror. 
.  .  .  He  turns  what  might  have  been  a 
tragic  close  to  something  that  is  loftier  and 
more  moving.  ...  It  matters  little  that 
we  hesitate  between  ranking  Mr.  Rice  highest 
as  dramatist  or  lyrist;  what  matters  is  that 
he  has  the  faculty  divine  beyond  any  living 
poet  of  America;  his  inspiration  is  true,  and 
his  poetry  is  the  real  thing."  The  London 
Bookman. 

"'Porzia*  has  the  swift  human  movement 
which  Mr.  Rice  puts  into  his  dramas,  and 
technique  of  a  very  high  order.  .  .  .  The 
dramatic  form  is  the  most  difficult  to  sustain 
harmoniously  and  this  Mr.  Rice  always 
achieves."     The  Baltimore  News. 

"To  the  making  of  'Porzia'  Mr.  Rice  has 
summoned  all  the  resources  of  his  dramatic 
skill.  On  the  constructive  side  it  is  particu- 
larly strong.  .  .  .  The  opening  scene  is 
certainly  one  of  the  happiest  Mr.  Rice  has 
written,  while  the  climaxing  third  act  is  a 
brilliant  piece  of  character  study  .... 
The  play  is  rich  in  poetry;  .  .  in  it  Mr. 
Rice  has  scored  another  success  ...  in 
a  field  where  work  of  permanent  value  is 
rarely  achieved."  Albert  S.  Henry  {The 
Book  News  Monthly). 

"Mr.  Rice  apes  neither  the  high-flown  style 
of  the  Elizabethans,  nor  the  turgid  and  cryptic 


style  of  Browning  .  .  .  'Porzia'  should 
attract  the  praise  of  all  who  wish  to  see  real 
literature  written  in  this  country  again." 
The  Covington  (Ky.)  Post. 

"The  complete  mastery  of  technique,  the 
dignity  and  dramatic  force  of  the  characters, 
the  beauty  of  the  language  and  clear  directness 
of  the  style  together  with  the  vivid  imagina- 
tion needed  to  portray  so  strikingly  the 
renaissance  spirit  and  atmosphere,  make  the 
work  one  that  should  last."  The  Springfield 
(Mass.)  Homestead, 

"It  is  not  unjust  to  say  that  Cale  Young 
Rice  holds  in  America  the  position  that 
Stephen  Phillips  holds  in  England."  The 
Scotsman  {Edinburgh). 

"Had  no  other  poetic  drama  than  this  been 
written  in  America,  there  would  be  hope  for 
the  future  of  poetry  on  the  stage."  John  G. 
Neihardt  (The  Minneapolis  Journal). 


FAR  QUESTS 

CALE  YOUNG  RICE 

THE  countrymen  of  Cale  Young  Rice 
apparently  regard  him  as  the  equal  of 
the  great  American  poets  of  the  past. 
Far  Quests  is  good  unquestionably.  It 
shows  a  wide  range  of  thought,  and  sympathy, 
and  real  skill  in  workmanship,  while  occasion- 
ally it  rises  to  heights  of  simplicity  and  truth, 
that  suggest  such  inspiration  as  should  mean 
lasting  fame. —  The  Daily  Telegraph  {London). 

"Mr.  Rice's  lyrics  are  deeply  impressive. 
A  large  number  are  complete  and  full-blooded 
works  of  art."— Prof.  Wm.  Lyon  Phelps  {Yale 
University). 

"Far  Quests  contains  much  beautiful  work — 
the  work  of  a  real  poet  in  imagination  and 
achievement." — Prof.  J.  W.  Mackail  {Oxford 
University). 

"Mr.  Rice  is  determined  to  get  away  from 
local  or  national  limitations  and  be  at  what- 
ever cost  universal.  .  .  .  These  poems 
are  always  animated  by  a  force  and  freshness 
of  feeling  rare  in  work  of  such  high  virtu- 
osity."— The  Scotsman  {Edinburgh). 

"Mr.  Cale  Young  Rice  is  acknowledged  by 
his  countrymen  to  be  one  of  their  great  poets. 


There  is  great  charm  in  his  nature  songs  (of 
this  volume)  and  in  his  songs  of  the  East. 
Mr.  Rice  writes  with  great  simplicity  and 
beauty."  —  The  Sphere  (London). 

Mr.  Rice's  forte  is  poetic  drama.  Yet  in 
the  act  of  saying  this  the  critic  is  confronted 
by  such  poems  as  The  Mystic  .  .  .  These 
are  the  poems  of  a  thinker,  a  man  of  large 
horizons,  an  optimist  profoundly  impressed 
with  the  pathos  of  man's  quest  for  happiness 
in  all  lands." —  The  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

"  Mr.  Rice's  latest  volume  shows  no  diminu- 
ition  of  poetic  power.  Fecundity  is  a  mark 
of  the  genuine  poet,  and  a  glance  through 
these  pages  will  demonstrate  how  rich  Mr. 
Rice  is  in  vitality   and   variety   of  thought 

.  .  There  is  too,  the  unmistakable  qual- 
ity of  style.  It  is  spontaneous,  flexible,  and 
strong  with  the  strength  of  simplicity  —  a  style 
of  rare  distinction. — Albert  S.  Henry,  (The 
Book  News  Monthly,  Philadelphia). 


THE  IMMORTAL  LURE 

CALE  YOUNG  RICE 

It  is  great  art  —  with  great  vitality. 

James  Lane  Allen. 

In  the  midst  of  the  Spring  rush  there  arrives  one 
book  for  which  all  else  is  pushed  aside  .  .  .  We 
have  been  educated  to  the  belief  that  a  man  must  be 
long  dead  before  he  can  be  enrolled  with  the  great 
ones.  Let  us  forget  this  cruel  teaching  .  .  .  This 
volume  contains  four  poetic  dramas  all  different  in 
setting,  and  all  so  beautiful  that  we  cannot  choose 
one  more  perfect  than  another.  .  .  .  Too  extra- 
vagant praise  cannot  be  given  Mr.  Rice. 

The  San  Francisco  Call. 

Four  brief  dramas,  different  from  Paola  &  Francesca, 
but  excelling  it — or  any  other  of  Mr.  Phillips's  work,  it 
is  safe  to  say  —  in  a  vivid  presentment  of  a  supreme 
moment  in  the  lives  of  the  characters  .  .  .  They 
form  excellent  examples  of  the  range  of  Mr.  Rice's 
genius  in  this  field.     The  New  York  Times  Review- 

Mr.  Rice  is  quite  the  most  ambitious,  and  most 
distinguished  of  contemporary  poetic  dramatists  in 
America.  The  Boston  Transcript  {W.  S.  Braithwaite.) 

The  vigor  and  originality  of  Mr.  Rice's  work  never 
outweigh  that  first  qualification,  beauty  .  .  .  No 
American  writer  has  so  enriched  the  body  of  our  poetic 
literature  in  the  past  few  years.     , 

The  New  Orleans  Picayune. 

Mr.  Rice  is  beyond  doubt  the  most  distinguished 
poetic  dramatist  America  has  yet  produced. 

The  Detroit  Free  Press. 

That  in  Cale  Young  Rice  a  new  American  poet 
of  great  power  and  originality  has  arisen  cannot  be 
denied.  He  has  somehow  discovered  the  secret 
of  the  mystery,  wonder  and  spirituality  of  human 


existence,  which  has  been  all  but  lost  in  our  commer- 
cial civilization.  May  he  succeed  in  awakening  our 
people  from  sordid  dreams  of  gain. 

Rochester  (N.  Y.  )  Post  Express. 

No  writer  in  England  or  America  holds  himself  to 
higher  ideals  (than  Mr.  Rice)  and  everything  he  does 
bears  the  imprint  of  exquisite  taste  and  the  finest 
poetic  instinct.  The  Portland  Oregonian. 

In  simplicity  of  art  form  and  sheer  mystery  of 
romanticism  these  poetic  dramas  embody  the  new 
century  artistry  that  is  remaking  current  imaginative 
literature.  The  Philadelphia  North  American. 

Cale  Young  Rice  is  justly  regarded  as  the  leading 
master  of  the  difficult  form  of  poetic  drama. 

Portland  {Me.)  Press. 

Mr.  Rice  has  outlived  the  prophesy  that  he  would 
one  day  rival  Stephen  Phillips  in  the  poetic  drama. 
As  dexterous  in  the  mechanism  of  his  art,  the  young 
American  is  the  Englishman's  superior  in  that  unforced 
quality  which  bespeaks  true  inspiration,  and  in  a  wider 
variety  of  manner  and  theme. 

San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

Mr.  Rice's  work  has  often  been  compared  to  Stephen 
Phillips's  and  there  is  great  resemblance  in  their  ex- 
pression of  high  vision.  Mr.  Rice's  technique  is  sure 
.  .  .  his  knowledge  of  his  settings  impeccable,  and 
one  feels  sincerely  the  passion,  power  and  sensuous 
beauty  of  the  whole.  "Arduin"(one  of  the  plays) 
is  perfect  tragedy;  as  rounded  as  a  sphere,  as  terrible 
as  death.  Review  of  Reviews. 

The  Immortal  Lure  is  a  very  beautiful  work. 

The  Springfield  (Mass.)  Republican. 

The  action  in  Mr.  Rice's  dramas  is  invariably 
compact  and  powerful,  his  writing  remarkably  forcible 
and  clear,  with  a  rare  grasp  of  form.  The  plays  are 
brief  and  classic.  Baltimore  News. 


These  four  dramas,  each  a  separate  unit  perfect 
in  itself  and  differing  widely  in  treatment,  are  yet 
vitally  related  by  reason  of  the  one  central  theme, 
wrought  out  with  rich  imagery  and  with  compelling 
dramatic  power.  The  Louisville  Times  {U.  S) 

The  literary  and  poetical  merit  of  these  dramas  is 
undeniable,  and  they  are  charged  with  the  emotional 
life  and  human  interest  that  should,  but  do  not,  al- 
ways go  along  with  those  other  high  gifts. 

The  (London)  Bookman. 

Mr.  Rice  never  [like  Stephen  Phillips]  mistakes 
strenuous  phrase  for  strong  thought.  He  makes  his 
blank  verse  his  servant,  and  it  has  the  stage  merit  of 
possessing  the  freedom  of  prose  while  retaining  the 
impassioned  movement  of  poetry. 

The  Glasgow  {Scotland)  Herald. 

These  firm  and  vivid  pieces  of  work  are  truly  wel- 
come as  examples  of  poetic  force  that  succeeds  with- 
out the  help  of  poetic  license. 

The  Literary  World  {London) 

We  do  not  possess  a  living  American  poet  whose 
utterance  is  so  clear,  so  felicitous,  so  free  from  the 
inane  and  meretricious  folly  of  sugared  lines.  .  .  . 
No  one  has  a  better  understanding  of.the  development 
of  dramatic  action  than  Mr.  Rice. 

The  Book  News  Monthly  {Albert  S.  Henry.) 


© 


OTAMeiuca      \£/  VVi/      magazine 

DOUBLED  AY,  PAGE  &  CO..  GARDEN  CITY,  N.  Y. 


MANY  GODS 

By 

CALE  YOUNG  RICE 

THESE  poems  are  flashingly,  glowingly 
full  of  the  East.  .  .  .  What  I 
am  sure  of  in  Mr.  Rice  is  that  here 
we  have  an  American  poet  whom  we  may 
claim  as  ours."  The  North  American  Review 
{William  Dean  Howells). 

"Mr.  Rice  has  the  gift  of  leadership.     . 
and  he  is  a  force  with  whom  we  must  reckon." 
The  Boston  Transcript. 

.  .  .  "We  find  here  a  poet  who  strives 
to  reach  the  goal  which  marks  the  best  that 
can  be  done  in  poetry."  The  Book  News 
Monthly  (A.  S.  Henry). 

"When  ycu  hear  the  pessimists  bewailing 
the  good  old  time  when  real  poets  were  abroad 
in  the  land  ...  do  not  fail  to  quote 
them  almost  anything  by  Cale  Young  Rice, 
a  real  poet  writing  to-day.  ...  He  has 
done  so  much  splendid  work  one  can  scarcely 
praise  him  too  highly."  The  San  Francisco 
Call. 

"'In  Many  Gods'  the  scenes  are  those  of 
the  East,  and  while  it  is  not  the  East  of 
Loti,  Arnold  or  Hearn,  it  is  still  a  place  of 


brooding,  majesty,  mystery  and  subtle  fasci- 
nation. There  is  a  temptation  to  quote 
such  verses  for  their  melody,  dignity  of  form, 
beauty  of  imagery  and  height  of  inspiration.' ' 
The  Chicago  Journal. 

"'Love's  Cynic'  (a  long  poem  in  the  vol- 
ume) might  be  by  Browning  at  his  best." 
Pittsburg  Gazette-Times. 

"This  is  a  serious,  and  from  any  standpoint, 
a  successful  piece  of  work  .  .  .  in  it 
are  poems  that  will  become  classic."  Passaic 
{New  Jersey)  News. 

"Mr.  Rice  must  be  hailed  as  one  among 
living  masters  of  his  art,  one  to  whom  we  may 
look  for  yet  greater  things."  Presbyterian 
Advance. 

"This  book  is  in  many  respects  a  remark- 
able work.  The  poems  are  indeed  poems." 
The  Nashville  Banner. 

"Mr.  Rice's  poetical  plays  reach  a  high 
level  of  achievement.  .  .  .  But  these 
poems  show  a  higher  vision  and  surer  mastery 
of  expression  than  ever  before."  The  London 
Bookman. 

Net,  $1.25  {postage  12c.) 


NIRVANA  DAYS 

Poems  by 

CALE  YOUNG  RICE 

MR.  RICE  has  the  technical  cunning 
that  makes  up  almost  the  entire 
equipment  of  many  poets  nowadays, 
but  human  nature  is  more  to  him  always 
.  .  .  and  he  has  the  feeling  and  imagina- 
tive sympathy  without  which  all  poetry  is 
but  an  empty  and  vain  thing."  The  London 
Bookman. 

"  Mr.  Rice's  note  is  a  clarion  call,  and  of  his 
two  poems,  'The  Strong  Man  to  His  Sires'  and 
'The  Young  to  the  Old,'  the  former  will  send 
a  thrill  to  the  heart  of  every  man  who  has  the 
instinct  of  race  in  his  blood,  while  the  latter 
should  be  printed  above  the  desk  of  every 
minor  poet  and  pessimist.  .  .  .  The  son- 
nets of  the  sequence,  'Quest  and  Requital/ 
have  the  elements  of  great  poetry  in  them." 
The  Glasgow  {Scotland)  Herald. 

"Mr.  Rice's  poems  are  singularly  free  from 
affectation,  and  he  seems  to  have  written  be- 
cause of  the  sincere  need  of  expressing  some- 
thing that  had  to  take  art  form."  The  Sun 
(New  York). 

"The  ability  to  write  verse  that  scans  is 
quite  common.  .  .  .  But  the  inspired 
thought    behind    the    lines    is    a    different 


thing;  and  it  is  this  thought  untrammeled 
—  the  clear  vision  searching  into  the  deeps 
of  human  emotion  —  which  gives  the  verse 
of  Mr.  Rice  weight  and  potency.  ...  In 
the  range  of  his  metrical  skill  he  easily  stands 
with  the  best  of  living  craftsmen  .  .  . 
and  we  have  in  him  ...  a  poet  whose 
dramas  and  lyrics  will  endure."  The  Book 
News  Monthly  (A.  S.  Henry). 

"These  poems  are  marked  by  a  breadth 
of  outlook,  individuality  and  beauty  of 
thought.  The  author  reveals  deep,  sincere 
feeling  on  topics  which  do  not  readily  lend 
themselves  to  artistic  expression  and  which 
he  makes  eminently  worth  while."  The 
Buffalo  (N.  Y.)  Courier. 

"We  get  throughout  the  idea  of  a  vast 
universe  and  of  the  soul  merging  itself  in  the 
infinite.  .  .  .  The  great  poem  of  the 
volume,  however,  is  'The  Strong  Man  to  His 
Sires.'"  The  Louisville  Post  {Margaret  S. 
Anderson). 

"The  poems  possess  much  music  .  .  . 
and  even  in  the  height  of  intensified  feeling 
the  clearness  of  Mr.  Rice's  ideas  is  not  dimmed 
by  the  obscure  haze  that  too  often  goes  with 
the  divine  fire."     The  Boston  Globe. 

Paper  boards.    Net,  $1.25  {postage  12c.) 


A  NIGHT  IN  AVIGNON 

By 

CALE  YOUNG  RICE 

Successfully  produced  by  Donald  Robertson 

IT  IS  as  vivid  as  a  page  from  Browning. 
Mr.  Rice  has  the  dramatic  pulse." 
James  Huneker. 

"It  embraces  in  small  compass  all  the 
essentials  of  the  drama.  New  York  Saturday 
Times  Review  (Jessie  B.  Rittenhouse) . 

"It  presents  one  of  the  most  striking 
situations  in  dramatic  literature  and  its 
climax  could  not  be  improved."  The  San 
Francisco   Call. 

"It  has  undeniable  power,  and  is  a  very- 
decided  poetic  achievement."  The  Boston 
Transcript. 

"It  leaves  an  enduring  impression  of  a 
soul   tragedy."     The   Churchman. 

"Since  the  publication  of  his  'Charles  di 
Tocca'  and  other  dramas,  Cale  Young  Rice 
has  justly  been  regarded  as  a  leading  Ameri- 
can master  of  that  difficult  form,  and  many 
critics  have  ranked  him  above  Stephen 
Phillips,  at  least  on  the  dramatic  side  of  his 
art.  And  this  judgment  is  further  confirmed 
by  'A  Night  in  Avignon.'  It  is  almost  in- 
credible that  in  less  than  500  lines  Mr.  Rice 
should  have  been  able  to  create  so  perfect  a 


play  with  so  powerful  a  dramatic  effect."  The 
Chicago  Record-Herald  {Edwin  S.  Shuman) 

"There  is  poetic  richness  in  this  brilliant 
composition;  a  beauty  of  sentiment  and 
grace  in  every  line.  It  is  impressive,  metri- 
cally pleasing  and  dramatically  powerful." 
The  Philadelphia  Record. 

"It  offers  one  of  the  most  striking  situa- 
tions in  dramatic  literature."  The  Louisville 
Courier- Journal. 

"The  publication  of  a  poetic  drama  of  the 
quality  of  Mr.  Rice's  is  an  important  event 
in  the  present  tendency  of  American  litera- 
ture. He  is  a  leader  in  this  most  significant 
movement,  and  'A  Night  in  Avignon'  is 
marked,  like  his  other  plays,  by  dramatic 
directness,  high  poetic  fervor,  clarity  of 
poetic  diction,  and  felicity  of  phrasing." 
The  Chicago  Journal. 

"It  is  a  dramatically  told  episode,  and  the 
metre  is  most  effectively  handled,  making 
a  welcome  change  for  blank  verse,  and  greatly 
enhancing  the  interest."     Sydney  Lee. 

"Many  critics,    on    hearing    Mr.    Bryce's 
prediction  that  America  will  one  day  have  a 
poet,  would  be  tempted  to  remind  him  of 
Mr.  Rice."     The  Hartford  {Conn.)  Courant. 
Net  50c.  {postage  5c.) 


YOLANDA  OF  CYPRUS 

A  Poetic  Drama  by 

CALE  YOUNG  RICE 


i 


T  HAS  real  life  and  drama,  not  merely 
beautiful  words,  and  so  differs  from  the 
great  mass  of  poetic  plays. 

Prof.  Gilbert  Murray. 

Minnie  Maddern  Fisk  says:  "No  one  can 
doubt  that  it  is  superior  poetically  and 
dramatically  to  Stephen  Phillips's  work," 
and  that  Mr.  Rice  ranks  with  Mr.  Phillips 
at  his  best  has  often  been  reaffirmed. 

"It  is  encouraging  to  the  hope  of  a  native 

drama  to  know  that  an  American  has  written 

a  play  which  is  at  the  same  time  of  decided 

poetic  merit  and  of  decided  dramatic  power. " 

The  New  York  Times. 

"The  most  remarkable  quality  of  the  play 
is  its  sustained  dramatic  strength.  Poetically 
it  is  frequently  of  great  beauty.  It  is  also 
lofty  in  conception,  lucid  and  felicitous  in 
style,  and  the  dramatic  pulse  throbs  in  every 
line."  The  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

"The  characters  are  drawn  with  force  and 
the  play  is  dignified  and  powerful,"  and  adds 
that  if  it  does  not  succeed  on  the  stage  it 
will  be  "because  of  its  excellence." 

The  Springfield  Republican. 


"Mr.  Rice  is  one  of  the  few  present-day 
poets  who  have  the  steadiness  and  weight;  for 
a  well-sustained  drama." 

The  Louisville  Post  {Margaret  Anderson). 

"It  has  equal  command  of  imagination, 
dramatic  utterance,  picturesque  effectiveness 
and  metrical  harmony. " 

The  London  {England)  Bookman. 

T.  P.'s  Weekly  says:  "It  might  well  stand 
the  difficult  test  of  production  and  will  be 
welcomed  by  all  who  care  for  serious  verse. " 

The  Glasgow  {Scotland)  Herald  says:  "Yo- 
landa  of  Cyprus  is  finely  constructed;  the 
irregular  blank  verse  admirably  adapted  for 
the  exigencies  of  intense  emotion;  the  char- 
acters firmly  drawn;  and  the  climax  serves 
the  purpose  of  good  stagecraft  and  poetic 
justice. " 

"It  is  well  constructed  and  instinct  with 
dramatic  power."    Sydney  Lee. 

"It  is  as  readable  as  a  novel. " 

The  Pittsburg  Post. 

"Here  and  there  an  almost  Shakespearean 
note   is   struck.    In   makeup,   arrangement, 
and  poetic  intensity  it  ranks  with  Stephen 
Phillips's  work. "    The  Book  News  Monthly. 
(Net,  $1.25  (postage  10c.) 

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DOUBLEDAY.  PAGE  &  CO.,  GARDEN  CITY,  N.  Y. 


DAVID 

A  Poetic  Drama  by 

CALE  YOUNG  RICE 

I   WAS  greatly  impressed  with  it  and  de- 
rived a  sense  of  personal  encouragement 
from  the  evidence  of  so  fine  and  lofty 
a  product  for  the  stage."     Richard  Mansfield. 

"It  is  a  powerful  piece  of  dramatic  por- 
traiture in  which  Cale  Young  Rice  has  again 
demonstrated  his  insight  and  power.  What 
he  did  before  in  'Charles  di  Tocca'  he  has 
repeated  and  improved  upon.  .  .  .  Not 
a  few  instances  of  his  strength  might  be 
cited  as  of  almost  Shakespearean  force. 
Indeed  the  strictly  literary  merit  of  the  tragedy 
is  altogether  extraordinary.  It  is  a  con- 
tribution to  the  drama  full  of  charm  and 
power."     The  Chicago  Tribune. 

"From  the  standpoint  of  poetry,  dignity 
of  conception,  spiritual  elevation  and  finish 
and  beauty  of  line,  Mr.  Rice's  'David'  is, 
perhaps,  superior  to  his  'Yolanda  of  Cyprus,' 
but  the  two  can  scarcely  be  compared." 
The  New  York  Times  {Jessie  B.  Rittenhouse). 

"  Never  before  has  the  theme  received  treat- 
ment in  a  manner  so  worthy  of  it."  The 
St.  Louis  Globe-Democrat. 


"It  needs  but  a  word,  for  it  has  been  passed 
upon  and  approved  by  critics  all  over  the 
country."  Book  News  Monthly,  And  again: 
"But  few  recent  writers  seem  to  have  found 
the  secret  of  dramatic  blank  verse;  and  of 
that  small  number,  Mr.  Rice  is,  if  not  first, 
at  least  without  superior." 

"With  instinctive  dramatic  and  poetic 
power,  Mr.  Rice  combines  a  knowledge  of 
the  exigencies  of  the  stage."  Harper's 
Weekly. 

"It  is  safe  to  say  that  were  Mr.  Rice  an 
Englishman  or  a  Frenchman,  his  reputation 
as  his  country's  most  distinquished  poetic 
dramatist  would  have  been  assured  by  a 
more  universal  sign  of  recognition.  The 
Baltimore  News  (writing  of  all  Mr.  Rice's 
plays). 


Net,  $1.25  {postage  12c.) 


CHARLES  DI  TOCCA 

By 

CALE  YOUNG  RICE 

I  TAKE   off   my   hat   to   Mr.    Rice.    His 
play  is  full  of  poetry,  and  the  pitch  and 
dignity  of  the  whole  are  remarkable." 
James  Lane  Allen. 

"It  is  a  dramatic  poem  one  reads  with  a 
heightened  sense  of  its  fine  quality  through- 
out. It  is  sincere,  strong,  finished  and  noble, 
and  sustains  its  distinction  of  manner  to  the 
end.  ,  .  .  The  character  of  Helena  is 
not  unworthy  of  any  of  the  great  masters  of 
dramatic  utterance."     The  Chicago  Tribune. 

"The  drama  is  one  of  the  best  of  the  kind 
ever  written  by  an  American  author.  Its 
whole  tone  is  masterful,  and  it  must  be  classed 
as  one  of  the  really  literary  works  of  the 
season."     (1903).     The   Milwaukee   Sentinel. 

"It  shows  a  remarkable  sense  of  dramatic 
construction  as  well  as  poetic  power  and 
strong  characterization."  James  Mac  Arthur, 
in  Harper's  Weekly. 

"This  play  has  many  elements  of  perfection. 
Its  plot  is  developed  with  ease  and  with  a  large 
dramatic  force;  its  characters  are  drawn  with 
sympathy    and    decision;  and    its    thoughts 


rise  to  a  very  real  beauty.  By  reason  of  it 
the  writer  has  gained  an  assured  place  among 
playwrights  who  seek  to  give  literary  as  well 
as  dramatic  worth  to  their  plays."  The 
Richmond  (Va.)  News-Leader. 

"The  action  of  the  play  is  admirably  com- 
pact and  coherent,  and  it  contains  tragic 
situations  which  will  afford  pleasure  not  only 
to  the  student,  but  to  the  technical  reader." 
The  Nation. 

"It  is  the  most  powerful,  vital,  and  truly 
tragical  drama  written  by  an  American  for 
some  years.  There  is  genuine  pathos,  mighty 
yet  never  repellent  passion,  great  sincerity 
and  penetration,  and  great  elevation  and 
beauty  of  language."     The  Chicago  Post. 

"Mr.  Rice  ranks  among  America's  choicest 
poets  on  account  of  his  power  to  turn  music 
into  words,  his  virility,  and  of  the  fact  that  he 
has  something  of  his  own  to  say."  The  Boston 
Globe. 

"The  whole  play  breathes  forth  the  inde- 
finable spirit  of  the  Italian  renaissance.  In 
poetic  style  and  dramatic  treatment  it  is 
a  work  of  art."     The  Baltimore  Sun. 

Paper  boards.    Net,  $1.25  (postage,  gc.) 


SONG-SURF 

(Being  the  Lyrics  of  Plays  and  Lyrics)  by 

CALE  YOUNG  RICE 

MR.  RICE'S  work  betrays  wide  sym- 
pathies with  nature  and  life,  and  a 
welcome  originality  of  sentiment  and 
metrical  harmony."    Sydney  Lee. 

"In  his  lyrics  Mr.  Rice's  imagination  works 
most  successfully.  He  is  an  optimist  —  and 
in  these  days  an  optimist  is  irresistible  — 
and  he  can  touch  delicately  things  too  holy 
for  a  rough  or  violent  pathos."  The  London 
Star  {James  Douglas). 

"Mr.  Rice's  highest  gift  is  essentially 
lyrical.  His  lyrics  have  a  charm  and  grace 
of  melody  distinctively  their  own."  The 
London  Bookman. 

"Mr.  Rice  is  keenly  responsive  to  the 
loveliness  of  the  outside  world,  and  he  re- 
veals this  beauty  in  words  that  sing  them- 
selves."    The  Boston  Transcript. 

"Mr.  Rice's  work  is  everywhere  marked 
by  true  imaginative  power  and  elevation  of 
feeling."     The  Scotsman. 

"  Mr.  Rice's  work  would  seem  to  rank  with 
the  best  of  our  American  poets  of  to-day." 
The  Atlanta  Constitution. 


"Mr.  Rice's  poems  are  touched  with  the 
magic  of  the  muse.  They  have  inspiration, 
grace  and  true  lyric  quality."  The  Book 
News   Monthly. 

"Mr.  Rice's  poetry  as  a  whole  is  both 
strongly  and  delicately  spiritual.  Many  of 
these  lyrics  have  the  true  romantic  mystery 
and  charm.  ...  To  write  thus  is  no 
indifferent  matter.  It  indicates  not  only  long 
work  but  long  brooding  on  the  beauty  and 
mystery  of  life."     The  Louisville  Post. 

"  Mr.  Rice  is  indisputably  one  of  the  greatest 
poets  who  have  lived  in  America.  .  .  . 
And  some  of  these  (earlier)  poems  are  truly 
beautiful.     The  Times-Union  (Albany,  N.  Y.) 


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